Where Quiet Spirits Play

[metrepwar]

Where Quiet Spirits Play

The veil of darkness tears its curtain,

and subtle light dances off dew.

What appeared to be sleeping in the night

at dawn shakes off its blues.

The morning mist drifts beneath the heavens:

softly floating, in, through, between, and out of sashaying leaves.

Warm spring wind lifts, leads, sways, and preaches.

Brown weathered limbs lifts, testifies, sways, fans,

and conjures: Hallelujah, Glory.

My feet caress patches of emerald green moss

Sketched in paths I have crossed.

I have stumbled upon where quiet Spirits play,

and sitting beneath this symphony of praise

Can I get an Amen?